


Why Can't I Die For You?

by Liritar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, We all know this story and how it ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:22:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6624835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liritar/pseuds/Liritar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trials and tribulations of the Psiioniic from early in his journey with the Signless until the bitter end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It’s hard not to watch the two of them, but I resolutely keep my gaze on my hands. She cares for Him. That is… truthfully, it’s the only thing that makes this bearable. That, and the fact that I’d rather follow Him, hiding my own feelings, than ever hurt Him by leaving. He has my loyalty, and He knows that. He doesn’t need to know He has won my love as well. I sigh and lay back, hard ground cool beneath me and stars dancing in patterns of light above.

I tell myself I’m content like this. That I don’t need anything as regimented as a quadrant to give Him all I have.

But how is it fair that she gets all of His quadrants? That there’s no room in His heart, the man who tells us to love everyone, for me? I’d even brew pitch for Him if it meant I got to touch Him. But no, she’s got those claws of hers buried so deeply into Him--

I shake my head. No. That’s just as unfair of me to think about her, one of my dearest friends. He offered His heart and soul to her freely. She just took it, and who wouldn’t? We all love Him. That’s why we follow Him.

I can still hear their soft voices across the clearing, on the other side of the cheerily blazing campfire. Each campsite is much like the last, and the next will be no different. The two of them, murmuring red or pale nothings at each other, the Dolorosa, doing something near the fire and glancing at them fondly, and me. Distancing myself in a long accepted practice of antisocial behavior. They considerately give me space, respecting a perceived need to be alone. None of them realize that I want to bask in the glow of their camaraderie, but I’m… too frightened of myself. Of what I’ll let slip. That if He knew how I feel, it would disgust Him. Or worse, that He’d pity me, platonically. I know that there’s no room for me in His quadrants, but I need to remain His friend.

I pull myself to my feet and take a few steps towards the fire, as if I’m starting to get chilled at the edge of our little camp. I step on a twig and all three look up, welcoming smiles stretching across three so different faces, each warming my heart in separate ways. The Dolorosa, in that strange, lusus-like affection she extends to her charge’s closest friends as well as her charge; the Disciple, in her open way that makes it so hard for me to stay angry at her and makes her my dearest friend after _Him_ ; and Him, my love, my life, His smile that makes me burn in every crevice of my being, despite being nothing more than a friendly greeting. My Signless leader doesn’t even realize what He does to me.

I smile back, lips curling slowly as if the gesture is new to me; a statement that isn’t far off the mark. Those of my caste generally have little to smile about. They seem pleased that I made the attempt, however varying the success may have been.

He gestures me closer, and I wouldn’t think to disobey. I find myself sitting on His other side, my pain melting in the heat of His presence. I would suffer any torture to be granted permission to be close to Him.

I sit, mostly silent, as they discuss or current plans, them listening to my rare suggestions as if they have as much merit as anyone’s. Another astonishing event in the life of a mustardblood. Everyone here except our leader outranks me, and they never treat me as an inferior. We live His message, and it feels _good._ Of course, the highbloods will resist with everything they have. I know, deep in my heart, that this can never be resolved peacefully. No matter what He says.

But whatever happens, I’ll be at His side. And if I must, I will die fighting, protecting Him with my very life. I would rather die than see Him fail. If the highbloods want the Signless, they’ll have to get through me.


	2. Chapter One: Tearing Down the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stirrings of rebellion.

Rebellion. The word flies around the camp, no longer the small, intimate affairs that I could enjoy. No, this is practically an army. Making that word more horribly apt. My Signless attempts to calm the flames, but this time, I fear, nothing will quench this blaze. The people are done with injustice, done with oppression, and done with the highbloods.

I feel a bit nauseated, even though I’d been expecting this from the very beginning. Though, honestly, I’d thought they’d hunt us down and slaughter us before it got far enough for us to declare war. I look around the gathering, taking in every detail.

I’m certain. Every single one of us are going to die. And yet, it’s better than living under Her Imperious Condescension’s claws for a moment longer.

I get His attention and draw Him aside. “The highbloods will never believe we’re _not_ plotting rebellion,” I point out softly. “The only way to protect all these people is to be ready when they come for us.”

He looks at me with such pain in His eyes that I feel my heart breaking. “I never wanted this,” He whispers. “Why can’t people listen to reason?”

It takes a moment for me to find words through the helpless, despairing laughter that wants to bubble up. My Signless. He honestly believes that highbloods will give up power when He tells them that what they’re doing is wrong. I will make them suffer for disillusioning Him. “Because making life better for us will make it worse for them,” I finally say. “They don’t care who suffers as long as they are standing at the top.” I look over the expectant faces once more. “We can’t keep a gathering this size hidden for long. Either we fight, or we disband and hide for the rest of our lives.” Pain grips me tightly. Alone. I would be alone again, never seeing Him again. I’d rather die.

I can see the ramifications going through His scarlet eyes. Either way is a loss to His non-violent solution idea, but giving up is too much of a failure to contemplate. He looks at me, and then to His Disciple and the Dolorosa, standing to the side. He seems to draw strength from them and steps forward, raising His fist to the sky. “We fight!”

I have to wonder if I’m selfishly pushing Him into this to keep Him by my side, but… No. Like all these people, I’d rather die fighting than live in slavery. And we would get caught, eventually. This is our only chance to change things.

I just hope that someday, He’ll forgive me.

 

We’re a martial race. None of our soldiers need much weapons training. What they need is lessons in cooperation. In working together. Even in taking orders from someone lower on the hemospectrum than they. A new mindset doesn’t dissolve a lifetime of mental conditioning instantly. I stare down the tealblood, one of the few of the lower highbloods who have joined us. “Is there a problem?” I growl, looking between him and his rustblooded instructor.

“No, sir,” she says, handing the tealblood back his weapon.

He hesitates, then takes it, mumbling a negative as well. 

I’m close to the Signless. They all revere me. It’s an odd feeling. One I don’t think I care for. Is this how He feels when we flock around Him? At least He’s _earned_ our devotion.

I walk away from that altercation, feeling uneasy. Dissension in our ranks would destroy us more easily than an army at our gates. And it’s such a fragile alliance of people.

I’m resigned to dying, but I’d rather take some of them with me.

“My, someone looks gloomy.”

I don’t need to look up to recognize that voice. I do, anyway. I can no more keep myself from looking at Him than I can make myself stop breathing. I flash him my brief, laborious smile. “I always look gloomy.” It’s almost enough to count as a joke, and His smile widens.

“Well. If you can crack quips like that, I have high hopes of our situation,” He laughs. He attempts to put an arm around my shoulders, despite being more than a head shorter than me. I slouch to oblige. What can I say? I’m weak and will take whatever affection I can get from Him.

He smiles up at me, and that makes everything worth it.

I desperately try to make conversation. As if His touch isn’t enough to make me lose every last wit I have. “The new recruits are coming along well.”

He sighs. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that. We are not soldiers.”

I silently curse myself. How can I never remember how much He hates that word?

Remarkably lacking, though, is a suggestion for a more suitable replacement.

I nod, still in silence. I don’t trust myself to speak yet.

My Signless stands on the rise, gazing down at the encampment. “ More join us every night,” He says softly. “Attracted to rebellion as they weren’t my words of peace.” A sigh escapes His lips as the moons slowly travel overhead. We just stand there for what seems like hours. Finally He turns back to me. “I’m sure you have better things to do than keep me company while I mope.”

 _Never._ I manage not to say it, but it’s like shouting in my head. I drop to one knee and bow my head. “I’m always happy to keep you company,” I murmur, needing to say _something._

He touches my chin, guiding my gaze up to meet His pained one. “No,” He says forcefully. “You never bow to me. I am not setting myself up to replace the Empress.” His grip on my jaw tightens. “No one of us will ever bow again.” He releases me and turns away, trembling.

I realize that I’m shaking as well. I’ve never seen Him _angry_ before. Much less had the full fire of His fury turned on me. The way those red eyes burned lent a sliver of believability to the highblood-spread rumors that He was demon spawn.

I climb to my feet and stand there, not daring to approach and refusing to flee. “I’m sorry,” I manage to croak out after a long silence.

He sighs and turns back to me. “I know,” He replies in the even tones I know so well. “You were showing respect as you’ve been trained.” He takes my hand in both of His. “Don’t you see? This is how ingrained the problem is. If even you, my dearest friend, don’t realize how far you’ve been conditioned…” He sighs, closing his eyes.

My hand is still in His grip, and I hardly dare breathe for fear that He’ll release me. I close my eyes as well. I have to… have to… I have to get this under control. I draw in a deep breath and force myself to pull my hand from His grasp. Casually, as if I just needed to move. Not as if my sanity and the future of our friendship depended on me getting free. “We’ll work on it,” I say firmly. I squeeze his shoulder supportively and move to look over our army of non-soldiers. “We’ll build your new world once we tear this one down.”

He comes up beside me and stands there, brooding. “I just wish we didn’t have to,” He murmured.


	3. Chapter Two: As The World Tries To Tear Us Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rebels win their first battle, but the leaders are less than optimistic. The Disciple discovers what the Psiioniic would rather keep hidden.

Our first battle is, shockingly enough, a victory. I stand, watching the enemy retreat, with what has to be a dumbstruck expression on my face. All I can think is that next time they’ll be ready for us. My innards feel like ice is crystallizing in them. We won this round only because the highbloods didn’t take us seriously.

They won’t make that mistake again.

Our troops are celebrating, but I don’t have the heart to join them. Instead, I slip unheeded into the woods, numbness overcoming every other emotion. We can’t turn back from this. We’ll never be allowed to escape.

I lean against a tree and close my eyes. The sun will be up soon, and I really should get back to the safety of my tent, but I just need a moment. I try to block out the rest of the world, to forget the future and the past for just a brief sensation of peace. 

I feel myself calming inside my numb shell, but as I suspected, it couldn’t last. I hear a twig snap nearby and am instantly at full alert. Of course they left someone, a scout, a spy, an infiltrator. Do they honestly think we’re that stupid? I grit my teeth. Of course they do. After all, lowbloods are little better than livestock. Well, this lowblood is not going back to his pen. Ever.

My eyes flare as I gather my power; I’ve never bothered with weapons, and why should I? My mind is more powerful than anything trollish hands could construct. I slink through the trees in the direction of the noise and step defiantly into a clearing.

The red and blue fires twining around my fingers instantly dissipate as I see the source of the sound I’d heard. My Signless is kneeling on the ground, hunched over where He’s apparently lost every meal He’s had in the last week. His matesprit is stroking His hair, murmuring softly in His ear.

She looks up, hissing, at my arrival, then smiles as she recognizes me. We share a look of understanding; both warriors through necessity, we’d been through this sweeps ago. I kneel on His other side, putting a gentle hand on His back. “Kankri?” I say softly, shocked at my daring at using His birth name. “It will be alright.”

He looks at me, eyes full of pain and despair, and I pity Him so much that it hurts. I can literally feel my heart splintering. I want to take Him into my arms and never release Him to be hurt by the world like this.

“How can it be alright, Mituna?” He answers, voice breaking. “How can it ever be alright again? I’ve killed…” He breaks off, sobbing into His hands.

Without a thought for anything but His misery, I wrap my arms around Him and pull Him against my chest. I stroke His back through His coarse robe with a slender hand. I’ve never felt so pale in my life. Is this how Meulin feels all the time, quadrants warring for dominance every time she looks at Him? Oh, hell. I look up and meet her eyes, and see understanding there.

Understanding, but no censure. 

She touches my shoulder in sympathy and then goes back to helping me comfort her matesprit. Moirail.

Our beloved.

Luckily He’s too upset to really care where the comfort is coming from. He merely sobs into my shoulder, soaking my jumpsuit with His red tears.

I don’t mind. How could I ever mind? I’m here for whatever He needs, from soldier to hankerchief and everything in between, but most importantly, as His friend.

By now the sun is close to rising, our eyes already beginning to sting from its brilliance. The Disciple nods decisively and stands, lifting our Signless out of my arms and carrying Him easily. Her strength has always impressed me. I wouldn’t have been able to carry Him without resorting to my psiioniics. And that’s not because He’s heavy, I just never needed to invest much into my physical strength.

I trail along after her, not sure what else to do. I can’t bring myself to abandon Him in this state. Even if my presence will prove problematic in the long run.

We reach their tent--no different from any of the surrounding tents to decrease the risk of assassination--and she nods for me to hold open the flap. She ducks inside, carrying her sacred burden, and I step back. I should get to my tent before the harsh sunlight becomes too much to bear.

As I turn away, a hand grabs me and yanks me inside. I stumble, flailing slightly. She giggles slightly and guides me to a seat on a cushion. Kankri… the Signless has already collapsed into an exhausted sleep on their pallet across the tent.

The Disciple looks at me solemnly, all humor fled. “You love him,” she says softly, gently, a hint of sympathy in her voice.

I nod, looking down at my hands. There’s no point in denying what’s obvious.

“Which quadrant?”

Why isn’t she angry? Any sane troll would try to kill me for daring to look at their matesprit. But then, can any followers of the Signless be deemed sane, normal trolls? “Any of them,” I admit quietly.

She smiles wryly. “He’s impossible,” she says, a note of exasperation hard to ignore. “You can’t ever feel just one thing for Him at a time.”

I clear my throat. “I’m not… going to do anything about it,” I finally get out. “He loves you, and… I can never hurt Him. I just… I just need to be near Him.”

Then her hand is on my shoulder, and she draws me into a platonic hug. “I know, Mituna,” she murmurs, stroking my hair. I shudder, trying to keep my emotions bottled up. “You’re our friend, and I trust you.” She smiles wryly. “In fact, I trust you even more, now. I know you’ll do as much as I would to keep Him safe.”

I hesitate, then hug her back. “I would die for Him,” I murmur, gazing solemnly into her eyes. After a moment, I add, barely audible, “and for you.”

She kisses my forehead and stands. “Rest here today,” she says firmly. “No need for you to brave the sun.”

She slides onto the pallet behind our Signless, wrapping her arms around Him.

I look at them for a moment before getting comfortable on a pile of cushions. It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. It isn’t long before I slip, almost unnoticed, into slumber, the closeness of my dearest friends bringing me peace I haven’t felt since our small traveling camps, when it had been just the four of us.


	4. Chapter Three: The World Is Crumbling Beneath My Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heroic last stand. In other words, shit gets real.

It’s the last real rest I get in what feels like sweeps. After weeks of being beaten back, of trudging through the woods from moonrise to right before sunrise, I’m not the only one of our ragtag bag of not-soldiers that’s worn ragged. One more hard won victory--that, as usual, feels less than victorious--under our belts, we slip into the trees to regroup and run before they hit us again.

I don’t even notice my eyes sliding shut from exhaustion until I stumble and hit the ground. Unexpectedly, the woman a few steps behind me stops to help me up. Maybe His message is getting through more deeply than I thought. Trolls aren’t normally a helpful race. I flash her the briefest of thankful smiles, which she returns with one of bone-weary resignation.

We both move on without a word, and I realize that I don’t even know her name.

I hear my Signless’s voice through the trees and I pick up speed, finding some last unexpected supply of energy. There’s a feeling of weightlessness in my chest. He survived. One more time, He survived.

I weave my way through the gathering crowd until I’m at His side, where I belong. He flashes a relieved smile the moment He sees me. Was He worried about my safety? Why would He do that? He has more important issues to concern Himself with.

He reaches out to touch my shoulder, never breaking stride with the inspirational speech falling from His lips. To be honest, I’m not listening. I’ve heard them all before, and I’m too worn to do more than let the sound of His voice sooth me.

The reprieve is far too short. There’s a commotion to the north, and then the Disciple is tearing through the crowd into our midst. “Ambush,” she gasps.

My heart turns to ice. The whole previous battle had been a ruse, a diversion, while they got their real army behind us. We’re in no state to fight, and if we run, without leaving a rear guard, they’ll just overtake us. I let the babble of panicked conversation wash over me, just staring at my Signless. The expression of weary resignation on His countenance settles my resolve. I am _not_ letting the highbloods get Him. Not while I live.

The plan forms quickly, and I raise my hands, shouting for silence, eyes and fingers flaring with fire to get the crowd’s attention. “Go to the west,” I say grimly. “Get across the river. Out of the woods, if you can.”

“Us?” The Signless looks at me in confusion, but I see understanding blooming in His matesprit’s eyes. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to delay them, if I have to burn down this entire forest.”

He grips my shoulders with both hands, tugging me down to His level. “Mituna, no. There’s a better way, there has to be.” Are those tears in His eyes? I can feel my own eyes start to water. Causing Him pain breaks my heart, but… I’m the only one who can do this. It would take an army, otherwise.

I force myself to pull away. “Take Him, Meulin,” I say coldly. “Keep Him safe.”

I see tears on her cheeks as she grabs Him, but she knows the necessity as much as I. He starts to struggle as I turn away, and I hear Him scream my name. “I’m sorry, Kankri,” I whisper, even though I know He can’t hear. “I have to do this. All I have to give is my life.” I close my eyes as the crowd melts away, already beginning the retreat. “Live for Him, Meulin,” I add. “Keep Him going. Don’t let this break Him.”

Tears are flowing down my cheeks as I stride towards the approaching army. Psychic fire engulfs my body, the earth at my feet beginning to smoke. I send the flames outwards in a wave, taking out the first ranks instantly, trees to either side alighting, fire starting to spread. I grin savagely as bloodlust overtakes me; I’m going to take as many of them with me as I can.

I rip a tree from the earth and send it hurling over the heads of the front runners, trying to get the commanders hiding in the rear. I can’t see who I manage to crush, but the screams make me laugh with glee.

I send boulders hurling at them, more trees, interspersed with waves of fire to keep the soldiers from getting too close. I start feeling hopeful; I know I won’t survive, that goes without saying. I don’t have enough energy to keep this up until they’re all dead. But it’s had to have been enough time for Him to escape.

I let the fires die down enough for me to regard my enemy. Wave after wave of soldiers stretching into the distance, a never ending stream of people who want me dead.

I laugh again. That’s fine. I want them dead, too. It’s just a race to see who can pull it off first.

I grab a sizable boulder and hurl it into the ranks. It bounces and tumbles, like skipping a stone across a pond.

But with more screams.

I’m starting to tire, now, but I’ve never been more determined in my life. Psychic burnout would be a more pleasant way to go than whatever they’ll do once they finally get their claws on me.

At least I’d die knowing I’d given everything I could.

I push myself further than I have in my life. I’m starting to feel the slow burn in my mind, the normal warning to stop using my psiioniics, but I ignore it. I welcome the pain. I grit my teeth, grabbing trees on either side of the soldiers before me and yanking them down, crushing ranks upon ranks and narrowing the approach to what I know will soon be my corpse. I bite back the scream that the psychic backlash threatens to tear from me. I can’t let them know how weak I’m getting.

But they know. They have to know. Someone back there already knows how much I’m capable of. One of the slave drivers has my childhood test scores and is listing them off like I’m a piece of livestock. I remember the voice, and this time I do scream, a cry of defiance from my very soul.

The front ranks part, and a new troop appears. I can tell from the signs and the various horn shapes that these are cerulean bloods. My heart almost stops. Mind controllers. They want to capture me.

Hell. No.

I gather up the last of my powers, ready to fling it at them, ending myself and as many of them I can, but the pressure of twenty minds against mine is too much to fight. I release the energy and darkness descends on me.

“No,” I manage to sob as the ground approaches my head. “Kankri…” And then there’s nothing.


	5. Chapter Four: The World is Inside These Walls

I awaken in the most pain I’ve ever felt in my life. Not only do I feel like I’ve been kicked along the entirety of my body, my head feels like it’s splitting from the inside out. The worst psychic burnout I’ve ever experienced. I won’t be able to use my powers for a week at the very least.

Then my blood chills as I realize: I’m waking up. They have me. I bite back a wail of despair and pry open my eyes to weigh my options.

Such as they are.

I’m in a small cell. Probably in one of the highest security prison blocks. I reach up to my head, already knowing what I’ll find. My fingers touch smooth metal, circling around my cranium. A psychic suppression band. Attempting to use my powers, or remove the band, will fry my brain, leaving me a withered, drooling husk.

That’s usually a good threat. We trolls have the strongest survival instinct I’ve ever seen. It’s why the highbloods can enslave us so easily.

Of course, they didn’t know I’m ready to die. It might not be what I’d have chosen, but it will do in a pinch.

I start pulling the band off of my head, gasping at the waves of tortuous pain. Instantly the door of my cell flies open, and several guards storm in. Just one of them could have overpowered me; with my mind out of commission, I’m just a weak mustardblood. With five of them, it’s no contest.

They beat me methodically and dispassionately until I pass out from the pain.

I awaken with new standards of agony. I almost long for the mild pain I’d felt the first time I’d gained consciousness.

Now I’m chained to the wall, my hands immobilized above my head. My hanging weight strains every injury on my arms, shoulders, and what has to be several broken ribs. I can’t stop the whimpers falling from my lips.

I can’t stop the despair blackening my soul.

I cling to the one shred of hope I have left. As long as He escaped, my suffering doesn’t matter. He has to be safe.

Yellow tears slide down my cheeks. If I’m lucky, He’ll never find out what happened to me. If He thinks I’m dead, He won’t try to rescue me.

Meulin would never let Him throw His life away for me. She’ll honor my sacrifice in the spirit it was given.

I close my eyes, silently begging to pass out again. Anything is better than this physical and spiritual agony.

 

Time passes. Nights, perigees, sweeps, I have no way to tell. The light never changes in my cell. They feed me, but not regularly. I hadn’t thought I could get any thinner than I’d already been. They haven’t unchained me since the first night. Even the torture’s been done with me attached to this forsaken piece of wall.

Sometimes I wonder if the wall is the only friend I have left.

Then faces flash before my eyes. The people they want to know about. The people I can never betray. Friends. My mouth stays shut.

Well. Other than the insults and profanities.

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” I suggest helpfully as one of them slices a gash into my chest. I grit my teeth for a moment before continuing. “Oh, that’s right, your bulge is too small to even self-pail.”

The troll snarls, knife going to my throat. “One last chance, pissblood. Where’s the heretic?”

It’s time to change my tactics. If I make him angry enough, he may just forget fear of the Condesce long enough to kill me. So I spit in his face.

The knife actually draws blood before the door to my cell opens and he pulls away in a panic. His body crumples to the floor seconds later. I stare in horror as his killer grins. “Can’t be havin’ no buoys breakin’ my toys,” she purrs, shaking her long mane of hair.

Only one thought is running through my mind, fast and electric: I am well and truly fucked.

She grabs my chin, forcing me to look up into her eyes, surrounded by the gaudiest pink glasses I’ve ever seen. My skin crawls from her touch, and I have to fight the urge to stretch my throat in submission. I scowl defiantly, glad that my mutant eyes can’t show the terror freezing my heart.

“So, buoy, where are your little fronds?”

My voice won’t work. I’m too petrified. But I manage to spit again. Oh, fuck, I just spit on Her Imperious Condescension. I try to still my tremors. She’s no better than me. Kankri would be proud. With that thought, a feeling of peace surrounds me, and I smirk. “I don’t have friends.”

Her claws scratch along my jaw. “You’re a brave buoy, aren’t you?” Her voice is a hiss, and her eyes shine with a savage light. “We’ll see how brave you are when I’m done with you.” She saunters from the cell, leaving the corpse of the torturer lying there, staring at me with blank eyes, my revenge enacted by my greatest enemy.

Had she left the body as a reminder of her actions?

Was the Condesce flirting with me?

My stomach heaved, and if I’d eaten recently, I’d have soiled the bits of my jumpsuit not already caked in blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. I couldn't handle this while I was stressed out from moving. Also I never meant for blackrom to happen, but I can't say I regret it.


	6. Chapter Five: The World Is Nothing But Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rebellion is over for good, and hope is lost.

I don’t even look up as she enters my cell. I’ve learned over however long it’s been that the best way to irritate Her Imperious Condescension is to ignore her. And as much as the thought of going pitch for her disgusts me, the only self respect I have left comes from my ability to get a rise out of my tormentors. That, and the fact that I haven’t broken yet. I… I keep telling myself that betraying Him won’t make the pain stop. He’ll just join my suffering.

I go so far as to close my eyes as she approaches, feigning sleep. As if she bores me that much. As if I don’t find her a threat. I hear her growling softly, then feel the sharp impact of her slap. Her seadweller strength could break my neck, but she holds herself back, just leaving what’s probably going to be a nasty bruise on my cheek. Far from the first, and likely not the last. I grin and spit out blood, aiming at her clothes. She should know by now that if you hit my face, my teeth are going to slice _something_ open. And I know how much she hates my yellow swill.

Unsurprisingly, that invites another slap. Sometime I _will_ find the line that will make her kill me. Until then, I’ll delight in every hiss of rage I get out of her fishy mouth.

Oh, ugh, I’m enjoying this too much. I try to find that area of inner calm that Kankri always preached about, but… it’s gone. Out of reach of my darkened heart. I’ll have to rely on anger. On hatred. _I’m sorry,_ I whisper silently to the man who will never hear my voice again. _Your new world can’t ever work. We hate too easily._

I raise my head, snarling at her ferally. It’s what she wants, after all. I have to save my strength to resist when it can matter.

She smiles, running a claw over my bruised face, making my skin crawl. “There’s my buoy,” she purrs. “I thought you’d be happier to sea me, guppy,” she added, smirking. “I’ve got the news we’ve all been waiting for! We finally hooked your heretic shrimp.”

I stare at her blankly, my mind refusing to process her words. Then a primal scream of rage and despair bursts from my lips and I lash out at her with everything I have, kicking with both feet, letting my arms in their shackles support my slight weight. Every self preservation instinct I have fails, letting out a sudden blast of psiioniic fury that the suppression band should have stopped before it gained enough force to do what it does, namely splintering the metal trying to contain my mind into slivers. I laugh, looking at her shocked--scared--face through glowing eyes. I wrench the shackles open effortlessly and take a step forward.

That was the plan, at least. I’ve been held immobile for so long that I just collapse. I throw out a hand, pinning Her Imperious Sack of Shit against the wall as I lift myself upright with the power of my mind. I grin, sanity fleeing in the face of my anger. I’m going to kill her. The new world is an impossibility, but I have the chance to burn down this one. We’ll all die screaming as Gl'bgolyb releases her Vast Glub, but maybe we _should._ Stop terrorizing the galaxy and let peace happen somewhere. “Die, bitch!” I snarl, readying another blast of power.

The door slams open behind me and before I have a chance to face the new threat, I feel the familiar touch in my mind and darkness envelops me.

 

When I regain consciousness, my body aches all over. I’m almost used to that by now. This is a new kind of agony, though. It doesn’t feel like I’ve been beaten. It feels like fire along my nerves. Like I’m holding on to live wires and can’t let go. I pry my eyes open. It takes more effort than such a simple motion ever should. There’s not much to see. The room’s as dimly lit as my cell was, but much bigger. Full of some kind of equipment. And my eyes seem to be the only thing I can move. The restraints are much better here, wherever they’ve moved me to.

The pain in my body is almost enough to overpower the agony in my soul. All I can think is that I failed again. I was so close to ending everything. They’ll never give me another chance, not like that. I can feel the despair threatening to overcome me.

Why am I even still alive? I tried to kill the _Condesce_. They shouldn’t have even given me a chance to awaken before the execution. Unless they wish to make a spectacle of it, turn me into a lesson. That sounds most likely. So now I just have to wait to die. I can do that. Do they realize that, at this point, they’ll be doing me a favor? I hope not. It might make them refrain, and death sounds like the most attractive offer right now.

Suddenly I realize that the suppression band is _gone._ I experiment slowly, trying to lift a nearby machine with my power. Nothing happens. Well, that’s not true. All the machines around me hum to life, my power siphoned by the biocables hooked into me. I can’t deny the facts anymore. This is an engineblock, and I’ve been installed. My power is no longer mine to command.

And they’re never going to kill me.

I open my mouth as far as I can, wailing my grief and pain to the room.

And then I hear it. Laughter. Slow, almost malicious laughter. And then _she_ steps into my narrow field of vision. “Aboat time, my little kismefish,” she purrs, reaching up to touch my cheek. And yes, apparently my skin can still crawl under all those biocables. “Thought you were never gonna wake up.” 

I don’t answer. What is there to even say? I close my eyes again. Maybe if I irritate her enough, she’ll kill me? Unlikely, but it’s all I have.

She laughs again, and then her lips are on mine, so very cold. I want to vomit, but I’m sure they’ve disconnected all of that already. She finally pulls away, to my great relief. I’m not ready for my platonic hate to wax pitch. Not yet. Depending on how long I’m stuck here… I push that thought away, feeling even more nauseous. “Are you gonna be a good buoy?” she purrs, claws gently sliding across my chest. “Your little rebellion’s over. I can use your power however I want. For waterever I want.” I keep my eyes shut, not wanting to see her expression. “You can’t fight me anemonemore.” She waits for a response, then laughs. “I’ll be back, buoy.”

Her heels click on the floor as she leaves my engineblock--I hiss softly. No. It’s not mine. None of this is _mine._ Not even this body, anymore. They’ve taken everything from me. I turn my attention from the anguished flesh and let my mind explore the machinery I’m attached to. I discover quickly that I have no power to adversely affect the ship, or the inhabitants. But she forgot to limit my access to the internet. The first thing I do is search the newsnets for word of my companions.

I can’t feel the tears streaming down my cheeks as I watch a broadcast of my love, disillusioned and in pain, cursing the world with His last breath. It’s faint consolation that Meulin escaped; like me, she’ll live in pain every moment for the rest of her life. I wish her the death denied to me. It’s the only peace any of us will ever feel, after His loss.


	7. Chapter Six: She is the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small taste of the Psiioniic's new life at the helm.

So many sweeps have passed. I could easily calculate how long I’ve been here, down to the second, but why should I bother? Each second of each day of each sweep is filled with pain and nothing else. The only change from endless drudgery and physical agony is when She comes to visit me. I’ve come to long for those moments as a break in the monotony. There’s a small part, deep in the back of my mind, that hates what I’ve become.

It’s easy to ignore it by now. Every time she extends my life, more hope is lost. I’ve even stopped sending encrypted messages to any rebellious insurrectionists. They never succeed, and if I get caught… well, my life could get even worse. She could remove any autonomy I still have. She could remove what makes me _me._

Sometimes I wonder if that would be a bad thing. But there’s a part of me that refuses to ever give up. I wonder vaguely, sometimes, if He would be proud of me. Sometimes I can barely remember what He looked like.

All I remember is wanting to make Him proud.

All I remember is failing Him.

I stop trying to remember. All it ever brings is pain. I hurt enough already. A Helmsman doesn’t have friends. He doesn’t have love. He doesn’t have feelings. He is the ship, and nothing more.

There is no me. There is only the ship.

My life would be much easier if I could accept my conditioning like a good Helmsman.

It’s been so long. Three or for times what my lifespan should have been. Why can’t I let Her break me? Why do I keep fighting this fruitless battle of wills? Hell, if I stopped fighting, She might get bored enough to let me die. I close my eyes, blocking the view of the engineblock. I want to die. Don’t I? It’s all I ever wanted. I vaguely remember that. Expecting to die. To die for Him. Whoever He was. Fighting to let Him live. But He didn’t, and I keep hanging on.

If I could still cry, I feel like I might indulge in it. Instead, I just let the familiar despair crash over me. It will pass. Soon I’ll be numb again. Until She comes, and I can feel, really feel. The rage makes me feel alive, like nothing else does.

I snarl silently at myself. _Such a good little barkbeast. You even_ feel _what She wants you to, you disgusting piece of shit._ I push the voice away. Like I don’t know that already. But after more than a thousand sweeps, it’s hard to care. She is all I have. The only person who gives any kind of damn that I’m here.

As if the thought summoned Her, the door slides open, and I look up eagerly. She stalks up to my body and touches my cheek. I purr, the physical contact feeling so good after so long. She hasn’t visited my block in half a sweep, and no one but Her ever touches me. She smiles at the response She gets, making my blood pusher beat faster. “That’s my good buoy,” She says. Gloats, really. She loves that I need Her so much.

“Go… go fuck yourself,” I force out, still purring. I hate myself for how much I want Her. I’m glad I don’t have a real body anymore, or I’d be throwing myself at Her, begging for Her to fuck me. Oh, fuck, I want that so much. I want someone to fucking _touch_ me. I whine softly, not even able to move in my biocable restraints.

Her smile turns into a smirk, knowing exactly what’s going through my mind. She kisses me, biting my lips, and I bite back, desperately. I hate Her so much. It makes me ache inside, in places nothing can touch anymore. It’s such sweet torture. So much better than the baseline of physical agony that I’ve grown used to.

And it will last for hours before it fades back into the pain. I love when She does this to me, just as much as I hate it.

She pulls away, and I whimper in protest. “That’s a good little guppy,” She says, stroking my face, letting Her claws bite. The sting of it makes my breath catch. My eyes stay locked on her, drinking in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst gulps water, until she leaves my block.

And now I’m alone with my thoughts once more, though now I have the sweet thrum of need humming through my body.

This used to feel differently, didn’t it? There used to be actual physical pleasure at the end. Not with Him, though. Never with Him. Maybe that’s why I like the frustration so much.

Maybe I should watch the video again, the one saved deep in my hidden cache of files. I pull it out every hundred sweeps or so, just… to remind myself of what She did to me. Of what She did to Him. So I can see His face one more time. Even if it’s in pain, death finally claiming Him.

I need to remind myself why I’m still fighting. Why I haven’t broken. It’s always because of Him.


	8. Epilogue: The World Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of it all.

Space is peaceful. I can lose myself in the cosmos, forgetting that I even used to be a troll. I shut down my processes--thoughts?--and just stare at the stars. I do this more and more often as the centuries pass. There’s less pain if I stop caring. I came to peace with that long ago, as well. I’d have less pain if I gave up on the idea that there’s a ‘me’ separate from the ship, but somehow I never can. There’s always a part of me willing to fight for my individuality.

Which amuses Her, from what I can tell. Otherwise She would have broken me to the tiniest scraps of myself before rebuilding me into a proper, obedient helmsman.

I hate when my processes insist on running when I specifically commanded otherwise.

I hear a faint sound, not with my sensors but within my own core--Mind? Was that the word? Screaming, growing steadily louder. It takes me upsettingly long to figure out what it is; I’d repressed the voices in my head so long ago. The faint memory of caring hands on my head, a voice encouraging me that I could do it, appears briefly, quickly drowned out by the screams. So many people are about to die. Close to every troll alive.

I feel myself move. My face. That’s the word. Lips. Smile. Other words I’d forgotten. My head is suddenly clearer than it’s been in a thousand sweeps. Even as I realize what’s coming, the pain strikes me, along with Her order to take the ship home. To Alternia.

The Vast Glub. It’s over. The world will burn and I...

I will finally burn with it.

It hurts so much, but I don’t scream. I don’t cry.

No. I laugh. Laugh and laugh and laugh, a rusty sound that hurts my throat. I haven’t even talked in sweeps.

As the pain consumes me, I wonder if there’s an afterlife. At this point, I’ll settle for the oblivion of nonexistence. But… on the off chance that He’s still out there somewhere, I… I hope He’ll forgive me.

I hope… I hope they’ll all forgive me.

And I hope I get to see them again.


End file.
